


hippo milk is actually pink

by deletable_bird



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bars and Pubs, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Confusion, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, First Dates, Getting Together, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Marks, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning After, Neck Kissing, One Night Stands, One Shot, Past Relationship(s), Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Tequila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deletable_bird/pseuds/deletable_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which Dan Is Drunk, Phil Is Also Drunk, They Hook Up, And Things Just Kind Of Go From There</p>
            </blockquote>





	hippo milk is actually pink

**Author's Note:**

> [ _disclaimer_ ](http://deletablebird.tumblr.com/d)

“You look really miserable.”

Dan glances up and grins; it’s automatic and utterly fake. The man looking at him is barely visible in the dramatic shadows cast by the flashing lights from the dance floor, the only thing clear about his appearance a dark, mildly edgy fringe and broad shoulders. He’s smiling back, though, so Dan replies.

“That’s not too far off the dot.”

“Oh, really? Here, let me get you something and you can tell me about it.”

Normally, that would sound far too forward, but Dan is far too done with life to care. He grins and tells Phil to buy him a round and tries to make out any of his facial features at all. He fails.

Drinks arrive and Dan picks one, trying to bite back the bile rising in his throat every time he thinks about Jack and his leather jackets and his shifty eyes and the way he yelled. The guy with the broad shoulders sits down next to him and throws back a tequila shot, sans salt. Dan’s eyes catch on the line of his throat when his head tips back, and he downs his own glass to keep it from happening again.

“So what’s going on?”

Dan glances over at the guy. “I’m Phil, by the way,” he says, reaching out and brushing the tips of his fingers over Dan’s thigh in a very familiar manner, and Dan doesn’t flinch away. Maybe he should have.

“Dan. I just got dumped.”

Phil recoils, and bites his lip. His brow is furrowed, as far as Dan can tell. “Shit,” he sympathises. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, he was kind of a fuck-up in general. I’m probably better off without him.”

He’s lying, but Phil doesn’t push it. “Big argument?”

“Yeah. He finally decided to address the fucking elephant in the room that’s been sitting there for about three months, just growing bigger, and everything kind of ended when dishes started getting thrown across my living room.”

“Shit,” Phil says again, but he doesn’t sound put off, which either means he’s hammered as fuck or he just knows what Dan’s going through.

“Elephant in the room, huh? Did you know that elephants can actually get sunburned? That’s why they cover themselves in sand, to keep it off.”

Dan is positive the look on his face is a prime example of absolute disbelief, but the comment is so utterly unwarranted it makes him laugh at the same time. “They _what_?”

“Use sand as suntan lotion. Apparently they’re also afraid of bees.”

Dan orders another round of shots.

“Have I scared you off?”

“No, no,” he replies, “they’re afraid of bees?”

“Yeah, but I heard that off a kind of dodgy website so I wouldn’t take that certain fact without a grain of salt.”

Dan briefly considers keeping his caution safe before tossing it freely to the winds. He’s just going to get drunker. “What kind of dodgy website are you thinking of?”

“I think they only sleep two or thr―excuse me?”

Dan laughs, purposely turns so his neck catches the spotlight for a second. When he looks back at Phil the eye contact is dragging a little. Success.

“Nothing,” he responds, glancing slightly up through his lashes before looking back down again, and doesn’t let off from that point on. By the time they’ve downed their third round the edges of his thought process are starting to go comfortably hazy and warm, and he’s unashamedly reaching out to touch Phil’s shoulder, his knee.

 _You literally just broke up with Jack_ , says a voice in the back of his head. _You’ve been single for about four hours. Have a little decency. Have a little self-respect._

He ignores it. Phil is pretty, and he’s drunk, and he’s horny by now, and they keep trading these looks that are lighting the back of his neck on fire. So he keeps laughing, and running his hand through his hair, and leaning forward and turning his chin just so, and Phil knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s returning it full force.

God, his neck looks nice when he throws his head back to laugh, just like he does when he takes shots. Dan’s a little bit fixated on how he takes his tequila plain, no salt, no chaser, nothing. Likes things raw, maybe. Raw and rough.

He’s got a good mouth for cocksucking.

“Can I take you home?” Phil asks after a while, and Dan agrees because he can’t quite think clearly and also he really doesn’t want to go back to the shards of porcelain landmining his living room floor. Phil takes him out of the pub with an arm around his waist, and he’s warm and just a tiny bit shorter than Dan. He manages to hail a taxi faster than Dan ever has, and the cabbie gives them a nasty look as they climb in, Dan giggly and draping himself all over Phil, but she drives them to Phil’s flat fast enough.

The building is far too huge to get anywhere quickly, and while they’re waiting for the elevator Dan glances over at Phil and realizes with a jolt that his eyes are really fucking intense under monotone lighting, some shade of pale gray-blue in the fluorescents. The lift door opens and they get inside and Phil gets Dan backed up against the far wall, hands on his hips, and tugs him in for a kiss. They both taste like tequila and Phil’s hands are none too gentle sliding under his jeans to grab a―very subtle―handful of his arse.

He pulls away just a second later, though, and gives Dan a faintly horrified look. “You’re okay with this, right?” he asks, biting his lip again. Somewhere in the back of Dan’s mind he registers that Phil only does that when he’s unsure about what to do next, and also that he’s asking because he’s concerned about the breakup. About Dan’s emotions.

Fuck those. He grabs Phil by the face and kisses him again, clumsily, and Phil’s hands return to his arse, kneading and pressing rather expertly. Dan can’t help but gasp into Phil’s mouth, and gets a particularly hard squeeze in return.

They get the kiss under control and it hovers at a slow, desperate slide of tongue against tongue for awhile before the lift door dings again and Phil breaks away from Dan and pulls him out and down the hall, through a plain door just like the rest in the hall.

Phil’s flat is clean and smells like fresh air, and as he pulls Dan through the kitchen and lounge without turning on any lights he catches a set of drapes drifting in the breeze out of the corner of his eye. The bedroom is dimly lit from the streetlamp light streaming in yet another open window, and Dan’s not sure what to think before Phil pushes him down bodily on the bed and all thought leaves his mind with a rush of air.

A set of warm, broad hands are under his shirt, roaming freely across his stomach, and one comes up to toy with one of his nipples. Dan gasps slightly, taking in a mouthful of cold, outside night air, and the curtain flutters.

“Get this off,” Phil growls, and Dan sheds his jacket, pulling his shirt messily over his head. He tosses them on the floor, and when he emerges Phil is wrestling his way out of his skinny jeans.

The wait nearly kills the mood, but Phil manages to keep it alive and slinking up Dan’s body in only his pants to leave a kiss on his shoulder. His mouth travels up Dan’s shoulder, trailing open-mouthed kisses before he latches onto the delicate skin just behind his sternocleidomastoid muscle and _sucks_. Electricity bolts down Dan’s spine and he arches into the touch.

Jack knew that spot on his neck, but Phil’s found it within seconds, and he doesn’t leave off. His tongue is hot and he knows how to apply just the right amount of pressure with his teeth, and with the combination of his mouth and the fresh air brushing over Dan’s naked torso, he’s fully hard and already riding a line somewhere close to orgasm.

Thankfully, the pressure on his neck lightens after a minute or two, and Phil starts leaving a trail of kisses down Dan’s chest, fingers busy at his fly. Once he reaches Dan’s treasure trail (faint, but there) he starts working the skinny jeans off of his thighs, and Dan has to admit it’s a pretty fucking smooth move because by the time his mouth is at the waistline of Dan’s pants the jeans are at his knees and it's easy enough to just grab them by the ankles and pull them all the way off, buckle clanking as they’re tossed to the floor.

Fingers work his pants down over his hips, freeing his prick, and it bobs up, not quite hard enough to lie flat against his belly. Phil’s lips don’t quite make contact with anything, but they brush pretty damn close, and he hikes Dan’s knees up over his shoulder before turning to his inner thighs.

Dan squirms against the blankets, his fingers gripping the edge of the pillow at the head of the bed hard enough to turn his fingers white. He had no idea his thighs were so ticklish, or so fucking sensitive. _Fuck_ , that’s―

Phil finally quits with the light, teasing kisses and latches onto the skin below his lips with the same expertise as he’d applied to Dan’s neck. His toes curl involuntarily, and he reaches down, taking two handfuls of Phil’s hair and pulling. The mouth slowly working closer to Dan’s hipbone falls away and Phil gasps, cheek brushing the tip of Dan’s prick. It’s an effort, but he relaxes his grip on Phil’s hair and their eyes meet, and there’s a glistening streak over Phil’s cheekbone and Dan forgets how to breathe.

“Fuck,” Phil says, his voice breathy, and he reaches up to splay the fingers of one hand over the place where the two sides of Dan’s rib cage meet and ducks his head down, and all the breath in his body just leaves as Phil’s mouth closes over the head of his cock. Gentle, at first, and it stays that way for a minute or two, lips plush and warm and slick as hell with all this tongue action happening along the― _oh_ , fuck―underside―

He’s working his way up to a slow, torturous rhythm, bobbing his head expertly, and it takes all of Dan’s self-control to keep from bucking up into his mouth. Regardless, his thighs are trembling on Phil’s shoulders, and he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to hold off.

Phil pulls off with an obscenely wet sound and wraps his free hand, warm and firm, around the base of Dan’s prick, meeting his eyes. The chilly air flooding in through the window is sending tingles over every part of Dan’s body that Phil’s mouth has touched. His tongue presses against the underside again, slowly drawing up and Dan’s throbbing by now, so close to coming that normally he’d be embarrassed but he’s drunk and Jack was never this good at blowjobs.

Phil’s hand leaves his chest and he cups Dan’s balls, tugging softly, and Dan’s back arches when his thumb presses against the tender skin just behind them. His hands fly back to Phil’s head, but he’s careful not to pull this time until Phil pulls off again and meets his eyes for the second time.

“Pull,” he orders, pushing into Dan’s touch, and Dan’s jaw falls slack with surprise and he lets his fingers tighten again. Phil gasps and says “push me,” and Dan loses all ability of thought and shoves his mouth back down. Phil manages to keep suction and rhythm despite the way Dan’s hips are rolling frantically up into his mouth, and he’s on the point of coming in less than a minute.

“Close,” he hisses, and Phil’s fingernails dig into the outside of his thighs, scraping down, and he chokes out a broken sound and trembles as his orgasm hits him with a great deal of no warning. He can feel Phil’s tongue flexing against the underside of his prick and his throat clenching and relaxing around the head of it, and he can’t remember ever having come this hard with Jack.

Phil nurses him through the aftershocks before pulling off and glancing up at Dan. His eyes are glinting in the light of the streetlamp. “DId you know,” he says, wiping the spit off his chin with the back of his hand, “that in Alaska it’s actually illegal to whisper in someone’s ear while they’re moose hunting?”

“How the fuck,” Dan gasps, shaking from the chill of the nighttime breeze, “do you even _know_ that?”

Phil’s grinning up at him with his lips swollen and his eyes sparkly-bright. “And a newborn Chinese water deer is so small you can almost hold it in one hand. And male ostriches roar like lions.”

“Can I keep you?” Dan blurts out, not bothering to move his legs from Phil’s shoulders, and he grins.

“I don’t see why not.”

* * *

Dan wakes up alone, and the first thing he registers is the window, still open. He’s naked and warm, bundled up in the bright checkered duvet on the bed, and it takes a moment for the memories of last night come flooding back to him.

He’s got a pounding headache, and thinks he’s never been so foolhardy in his life.

He rolls over, groaning at the thumping in his temples, and his eyes land on a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on the bedside table. He sits up, shivering involuntarily at the way the cold air hits his skin, and tosses back two tablets, swallowing the entire glass of water in three gulps. He really needs a piss.

He stands up, glancing over and catching a glimpse of his clothes scattered across the floor. His headache is still raging, so he ignores them and goes out into the hallway.

Something shatters in a room he can’t see the doorway to, and a shadow flickers over the wall. Phil shuffles into view, the handle of a mug clasped in his hand. He glances up and stops dead.

The way his eyes are raking over Dan’s body is uncomfortable, to say the least. Dan runs his hands through his hair―he knows he’s not unattractive, but still―and turns away. “Where’s the loo?”

“Down the hall and to the left,” Phil replies, sounding a little shell-shocked. Dan stops in his room to collect his clothes from last night and dumps them on the toilet.

He glares at his reflection in the mirror, running his fingers over the skin of his neck. He can see two marks already, one much darker than the other, and when he inspects his legs there’s definitely going to be marks there as well, from Phil’s mouth and his nails both. He feels used, which is unwarranted, but undeniable.

Maybe he should stop drinking. Maybe he should just stop in general.

He runs the faucet and splashes his face with the coldest water he can get. There’s a tube of toothpaste on the counter, and he cleans out his mouth with his finger and a mouthful of tapwater. His clothes are nowhere near clean, but he pulls them on anyway. His shirt smells of Jack’s cologne and the heavy luster of the club, and the thick kind of scent that’s undeniably the smell of sex. His jacket is blissfully heavy, grounding.

He fights his way back into his skinny jeans and buckles his belt too tightly. Phil’s in the kitchen, and Dan considers just leaving before stepping inside and leaning against the wall.

Their eyes meet, and he has to look down. Phil’s footsteps shuffle closer, and he glances up to see a mug of steaming tea outstretched towards him. He hesitates and takes it.

“Sit down, Dan,” he says. Dan does, and Phil leans against the counter. Dan can’t help but notice the way his shoulders are broad enough to strain the sleeves of the plain, worn-out shirt he’s wearing, and the fact that he’s wearing a set of Star Wars pyjama trousers.

“Was what I did not okay?” Phil says, and Dan’s surprised by the way he completely skips small talk. He doesn’t know yet if he likes it or not, but it’s convenient.

“It might have been,” he replies, staring into his tea and swallowing through the tightness in his throat, “but it isn’t your fault.”

“Are you sure?” Phil asks, and the amount of worry in his voice doesn’t help the tears prickling Dan’s eyes at all. He takes a sip of the too-hot drink in his hands and swallows. It loosens the tension in his throat and he closes his eyes, tipping his head back. He can feel Phil’s eyes on his neck, on the bruises there.

“I marked you up,” he says abruptly. “Sorry about that.”

“Not just here, too,” Dan replies, fingers brushing at the tender skin on the side of his neck, not opening his eyes, and Phil huffs out something resembling a laugh.

“The least I can do is give you a ride home, or a taxi fare,” he says after a moment, and Dan shakes his head. His eyes are still closed.

“Just let me finish this and I’ll be gone. Thanks, Phil.”

Phil doesn’t respond. Dan drinks his tea and stands up, and he shows him to the door.

They pause there, almost simultaneously. Dan’s unsure what would be an appropriate goodbye at this point; a kiss? a hug? a plain old “see you” that both of them know doesn’t really have any truth behind it?

“Want my number?” Phil says, surprising Dan yet again. He’s even more surprised when he responds with a “yeah” and hands his phone to Phil. Their fingers brush together. Phil’s hands are warm. Dan’s are freezing.

“It’s just under my name,” Phil says as he hands the phone back to Dan. Dan takes it, shoves it in his pocket.

“Thanks,” he replies. He takes a half-step towards the door, and turns back to Phil. “It’s not your fault, trust me.”

“How do I know?” Phil says, and there’s a sad little smile on his face. He reaches a hand out to Dan, and he takes it. It’s definitely warmer than his, and broad and Phil grips firmly. It’s a good handshake, and it feels all wrong.

* * *

**Phil:** _Hey, remember me?_

Dan taps on the message from his lock screen and can’t help but huff out a laugh. Bryony glances over at him, eyebrows raised.

“I had a one night stand a month ago and he’s texted me finally,” he says by way of explanation, and Bryony’s eyebrows creep yet farther up her forehead.

“It happened on the night after I broke up with Jack too,” he adds, and he’s rewarded with the possibility that her eyebrows might possibly be disappearing into her hairline if they climb any higher up.

“Shit, Dan,” she says, and he nods.

“Should I text back?”

“I don’t know, do you want to?”

“Kind of,” he replies, and then “not really.”

Bryony shrugs. “Your choice, man.”

He does end up texting back, surprisingly enough.

* * *

**Me:** _yeah i do, believe it or not_

 **Phil:** _I didn’t honestly think you’d respond. Surprises come in all shapes and sizes._

 **Me:** _thats true in a lot of ways_

 **Phil:** _How’s life going for you then?_

 **Me:** _well enough_

 **Phil:** _That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic._

 **Me:** _you got that right_

 **Me:** _hey do you want to meet up sometime_

 **Phil:** _Are you being sarcastic or is that an actual offer?_

 **Me:** _i think its an actual offer, but i could be wrong_

 **Phil:** _Sounds convoluted enough to me. I can work with that._

 **Me:** _sweet. thursday evening okay?_

 **Phil:** _I know a place that’s got surprisingly good food. I’ll find the address for you._

 **Me:** _thanks_

 **Me:** _see you then_

 **Phil:** _It’s a date._

 **Me:** _stfu_

* * *

He’s there fifteen minutes early, and runs straight into Phil. It’s an awkward moment for a second, standing there outside the door both far too early to make any excuses, and then Phil laughs and all the memories come flooding back to Dan and he nearly bails right then and there. Instead, he glues his feet to the floor and mentally locks his heart shut and follows Phil to a table and manages to make it through the night.

It’s halfway through their meal and what is surprisingly one of the easiest conversations of Dan’s life when he finally registers how good Phil looks. The plain pale blue of his mildly fancy shirt makes him look a bit like an angel and Dan suddenly feels far too shabby in the same leather jacket that he wore to the pub the night he met Phil and one of his simplest button-downs. 

A minute later Phil reaches across the table and touches his hand, covering his face as he laughs, and Dan resists the urge to jerk away and instead glances down at the contact before lacing their fingers together. Phil’s free hand falls to his lap and he glances up at Dan, the expression on his face a perfect example of _are you sure?_

Dan nods and doesn’t let him go, and eventually stops feeling nervous. Phil’s hands are always warm, apparently, and the way his thumb is stroking over the lines of the tendons of Dan’s hand is soothing as anything. He finds himself watching Phil’s mouth more and more as the night goes on, and refuses every offer of wine from their waitress.

Phil pays for the both of them and Dan feels a little emasculated but he doesn’t have nearly enough money on him to even split the tab down the middle, so he doesn’t protest. Phil’s hand lands on the small of his back as they’re walking themselves out, and Dan involuntarily pulls away.

“Sorry,” Phil says, and Dan mentally slaps himself before reaching out and taking his hand again. Phil’s fingers twitch in his before he relaxes, and Dan lets out a long breath. He can do this.

He pulls Phil to a stop just down the street, when they stop to wait for the light to let them cross, and takes his other hand. Phil meets his eyes and he leans in, letting their mouths collide. It’s soft and brief and sweet, and Dan can’t remember the last time he’s ever wanted to just pull someone against him and snog the living hell out of them.

He’s lying. He felt that way about Jack when he first met him, and then things went bad.

He goes in for one more kiss, a little longer this time, sliding his hands around Phil’s waist but not pulling him in. Phil cradles his face in both hands, kissing back slow and gentle. He doesn’t go for tongue, and Dan is inexplicably, deeply grateful.

He catches a taxi home alone, and keeps touching his lips with the tips of his fingers. He’s not sure why.

* * *

They keep going out, for whatever reason, and slowly it gets to the point where Dan doesn’t flinch away when Phil wraps his arm around his waist any more. It gets to the point where they can lie on the couch for hours, making out lazily with the telly in the background, and Phil can just have his hands roaming lazily under Dan’s shirt and Dan can be pinned comfortably between the cushions and Phil’s weight and never want to move, and they don’t have to take it any farther than that.

It gets to the point where do they start taking it farther, and Phil is so wonderfully willing and understanding with Dan and how hesitant he is to let anyone get close to him again that things happen at just the right pace and eventually, it gets to the point where Dan is happy.

It’s a point that, a few months ago, he might have thought he’d never be at again, but it gets there and he can’t really believe it, but Phil has warm hands and he leaves his windows open at night and Dan is happy with him and everything he is.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was supposed to be just the blowjob bit but then it got far too dub-con for my liking so i added more i hope u like it. based off [[this](http://phanfic.tumblr.com/post/138706767282)] prompt


End file.
